Consolation
by Cerulean.Phoenix7
Summary: Admittance isn't something that comes easily to her.


A/N: This takes place after the last scene of "Unimatrix Zero: Part Two".

Many thanks go to Uroboros75 for the beta work.

Music: Breathe - Superchick

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek Voyager or any of its affiliated characters; I'm simply borrowing a couple of them for a little bit.

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><p><strong>CONSOLATION<strong>

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><p>She's halfway through her second cup of coffee and her fingers are growing a bit tense around the edges of the PADD clutched between them when she hears it; the <em>whoosh<em> of the Sickbay doors is unmistakable, and she flicks her eyes up out of curiosity, wondering who it might be.

Her lips draw into a tight line when she sees him, and she loses interest in the coffee and the maintenance report altogether. She abandons both next to her computer on the cart by her bed and leans back on the cushions nestled against her spine; she feels like she'll need them in the next few moments.

Chakotay walks to her bedside with much more nonchalance than she would have expected after knowing the ordeal that she went through, but she knows that composure takes a high seat on his priority list, as it does hers. She wasn't expecting his visit, but like all things unexpected, she takes it graciously and with a grain of salt; for all she knows, he could be hiding another PADD's worth of reports behind his back.

She smiles first, hoping it eases some of the tension in the air for him as it does for her. "Are you hiding some bridge reports in your uniform, or is there something else on your mind?" she asks, feigning what calm she can; she's had enough disturbing events to last her a couple of lifetimes.

He reciprocates the smile and she feels a little better, now knowing that this isn't all business. She finds it a little… endearing.

"Just thought I'd drop by before turning in," he answers sincerely. With a little douse of humor, he adds, "You weren't exactly talkative when I first came by."

She chuckles as she recalls when the Doctor had first placed her under heavy sedation, only learning after the fact that Chakotay had come by to see them. According to the Doctor, he'd tried whispering a few things to her before the Doctor mentioned that she probably couldn't hear him.

She'll never let it slip that she heard every word of it, and that it was only after the Doctor told her about Chakotay's first visit that realized that the words _weren't_ the product of some bizarre dream.

She'll also remember his words the way Da Vinci would one of his designs.

_...I'm so glad that you're back..._

"Thought I'd save some of it for later," she says, moving a hand to her side. She pats the edge of the bed to invite him closer, because there's too much distance right now and it's making her nervous.

He strolls over calmly before settling himself gingerly on the edge, enough so that Kathryn barely has to move for him. Her muscles stretch slightly in the exact spot where an implant had once burrowed into her skin, and she winces. Chakotay reaches a hand out to her shoulder as she instinctively moves for the tender spot on her back.

"Damn spinal clamps," she hisses under her breath.

She takes a moment to re-adjust herself against the cushions at her back before looking over to Chakotay. When the sting against her nerves has subsided she looks over and sees a startlingly sombre look on his face. He's still perched on the edge of the bio-bed, one leg resting on the floor and the other hanging off the edge; his right hand rests on his thigh. She thinks that she's seen this look before and the incidents that come to mind don't carry the nicest imagery; the worry on his face was as familiar to her as the laws of quantum mechanics.

She's tempted to reach out her own hand to grasp his, but his words beat her to it.

"How are you holding up?" he asks, composure holding but masking a torrent of something greater.

"I'm fine," she responds automatically. It's only after a moment of distinct silence between the two of them that she realizes what a lie that is.

"No you're not, Kathryn," he answers.

She's a little shocked at his blunt reply, but the more she considers it the more she cannot allow herself to deny it. If it were another member of the crew – _any_ other member of the crew – she would keep the mask on; but Chakotay is her first officer, and he is not one that she is keen to shut out.

She draws her legs up closer to her chest on the bed and drapes her left arm over her knees. "I'm doing the best I can," she says.

He nods, and that knowing glance in his eyes is a portent of a something else, something a little stronger than acknowledgement.

"Kathryn," he answers, and she notices how gentle his voice is now. "You just recovered from assimilation; not everything is going to go back to normal right away."

It takes her a lot longer to formulate a response than she would like, but she can't deny the truth in his words like she can her own emotions about this whole incident; she has to be the foundation that this crew stands upon, and she can't afford to be anything less than infallible.

"I know," she whispers, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. Her fingers brush over a sensitive patch of skin nestled by her ear, one that she's sure is still tainted with the stain of Borg assimilation. It's unsettling, and she considers herself slightly vain for thinking of how ugly it must appear. "But I can't allow myself to be uncertain in the eyes of the crew," she adds with a heavy sigh.

He reaches out for her right hand, still resting next to her on the bed. She allows it because she knows that there is no one else that she can confide such things in, and her trust in him surpasses almost all the others on the ship.

"You don't have to be," he says, curling his fingers around her hand. "But you can with me."

His other hand comes up to join the first. She looks at him incredulously, partly because she's not used to such bold statements from him and partly because she's unsure how to respond. She's only ever had her own thoughts for company in these matters, and even that reaches its helpful limits. He is meant to be someone that she can trust and count on, and in this instance she needs that more than anything.

He must sense her apprehension, because he continues to speak. "I will _always _be a friend for you, Kathryn. I have stood by your side for the past six years and have done my best to support you." He pauses, and she bites at her lip because it's the only thing she can manage to do at that moment. His eyes plead admission, but of more than just words. She wonders if she can ever give him that.

He hushes his voice when the Doctor walks back into the room, and she's thankful that he doesn't stop to chat. "Don't shut me out now," he whispers.

She lowers her own voice as she watches the Doctor running further scans on Tuvok out of the corner of her eye, and she hopes that none of his new innovative subroutines include eavesdropping.

"What do you want me to say, Chakotay? All I remember are bits and pieces, and I'd rather forget about them altogether." She tightens her grip on his hand ever so slightly. She lowers her legs back against the surface of the bio-bed and brings her other hand to rest on his. "I don't know where to even begin."

"Then just tell me what you remember," he answers quietly.

She takes a deep breath and tries to rally what strength she can, because what he's asking her to do is far more strenuous than he could ever know. She doesn't usually admit these kinds of things freely, but he's already admitted his own concern just by being here, and she considers that fair enough.

"I don't remember much of the assimilation," she whispers, her voice quivering slightly. "I just… I remember them… the Borg, taking us to some chamber and then." She pauses, not entirely sure if she's remembering correctly. "They strapped me to a table." At that, Chakotay's eyes snap up to meet hers. She can see the horror riddling his expression, his eyes vacant of anything except what she supposes is a great deal of compassion.

She leans back against the cushions a little more, and the motion of her arms brings Chakotay closer. "Chakotay," she whispers. "They put these… _things_ in my body." She removes one hand from atop his and brushes a hand against the tainted skin by her ear; she feels a shiver run down her spine. "I don't even know what half of them were." She feels distant, the clean grays of sickbay vanishing into murky blacks and sickly greens. "They ripped me apart to piece me back into their image."

Chakotay reaches out, and she flinches slightly; she isn't sure if they should be doing this or even _having_ this discussion right now, but she's come too far to cast it all aside now. His fingers brush the spot of dark flesh by her ear, and when she shows no discomfort, he repeats the motion; it's soothing and very welcome to her.

"Regardless of what happened, you are still the Kathryn Janeway that I have known for the past six years. Not even the Borg can take that from you."

His hand shifts to cup her chin. She lets him because she needs this; she needs to know that she is still the same person who beamed onto that godforsaken cube mere days ago. She brings her hand to rest on his against her face, and she forces a weak smile for both their sakes.

"You know," she says gently, "it's times like these where I'm grateful to have you by my side on this ship."

His expression is a canvas of sincerity, something that she's always loved about him.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," he says. "Through hell or high water, I'll still be here."

The truth of his words strikes her a little harder than she thought, but she isn't completely immune to these things. She may be the captain, but she would like to think that she can read people beyond the space of the bridge.

She drops her hand from her face, bringing Chakotay's with it. She draws both her hands to her lap where she runs her nimble fingers over Chakotay's. The skin is firm, but not rough; she strokes the juncture of his thumb and pointer finger with her own thumb, watching as the skin gives slightly to her attention.

"Chakotay," she says, looking up from their joined hands. "I know… it wasn't easy for you to leave me over there. Nothing about this mission was easy."

He shakes his head. "No, it wasn't. But nothing about this job is easy. There's no line in the Starfleet manual that states that any of this is easy." He grips both her hands again. "Letting you go onto that cube, all the while knowing that you were leading B'Elanna, Tuvok and yourself into assimilation was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do." He pauses, and she doesn't interrupt because she knows better than to do that with him.

"While you were on the cube, I… I couldn't help wondering what was happening. I was worried... but then again, I think that went for most of the crew. I knew that I wasn't going to leave you there, and that I would fight with everything I had to get you back."

"Well you certainly get credit for making an entrance," she quips lightly. Her expression goes back to seriousness a moment later. "On the cube, one of the things I thought about most was how much I wanted to be back on _Voyager_; now that I'm here, I can't tell you how good it is to be back."

Chakotay leans forward, wrapping his arms around her shoulders in a gentle embrace. She leans into it as much as she can without straining her muscles as something wet trails down her cheek. Her own arms wrap around his body as she leans her head against his chest, his heart beating softly in her ear.

Against the backdrop of his thrumming heart, she hears a whisper, slight and soft like a dove.

"It's good to have you back, Kathryn."

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><p>The Doctor's working on Mister Tuvok when Chakotay comes in. As he had previously come in to see the Captain, he's fairly certain that this is also the case of this particular visit.<p>

The Captain has never been very liberal with her feelings, but the Doctor has a hunch that the Commander will be able to coax a few truths out of her. In his opinion, it's all the better for her recovery (more so now that she's actually _conscious_).

When he glances over towards the Captain's bed later, the two are exchanging some close remarks (and unless his visual subroutines are malfunctioning, he's pretty sure that the Commander is also holding her hand).

He focuses back on the task at hand, as it is not a Doctor's prerogative to snoop. He runs a few more scans before moving to retrieve a dermal regenerator from the cart nearby.

That's when he sees how very _close_ they have become.

Normally he would rather his patients rest, but he feels like the Captain needs the company in this instance. She's always been more isolated than he thinks is necessary, and occasionally he wonders if she's ever lonely.

It can get very lonely in space.

He feels a warm flush in his face, something that he's come to recognize as embarrassment; he feels little… _awkward_, being privy to such an interaction. He decides that he needs a slightly different tool than what he originally set out, and does his best to be inconspicuous as he walks back to his office and through to the storage units.

As the Captain, she's limited to her choice of relationships by duty, but the Doctor doesn't really see what all the fuss would be about if she and the Commander indeed chose such a route. They are, after all, only human.

He fiddles around in the storage area for at least seven minutes more than necessary, and when he strolls back into his office he pauses abruptly.

Chakotay is _hugging_ the Captain.

He quickly shuffles to the side, where he can use the interface to run some scans and allow the pair a few moments to themselves. They deserve such a thing, he thought; who knows when such a chance would come again.

_They could probably have more if they just let themselves_, he muses.

As he makes a few notes in his daily log, an old tune rises to mind. At first he hums softly, not wanting to draw attention. After a few moments, he adds the words:

_Oh my darling, oh my darling, oh my darling…_

_...Clementine. _

_Fin_

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><p><strong>Please review :)<strong>


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